That One Missing Thing
by BarefootJourney
Summary: Franky carries a mystery envelope into Wentworth's visitation center. After much agonising over the appropriateness of what she plans to ask, and reflection on what she's accomplished outside of prison, she feels there is still a part of her life that remains empty. (Implied Fridget, but not central to this scene. It's short, so give it a go if you've got the time to spare?)


**((A/N This is a little something that I'd actually like to incorporate into a larger story that's in the works, but I figured I'd throw it out here to see what kind of response it would get. Through writing these characters and taking time to study their portrayals on screen, I've discovered that I love not just one or two pairings, but all the stories and individual characters, and I'd like to explore the different paths they could take. Fridget is implied here, but is not central to this scene.**  
 **I know I've only published fluff and tentative resolution drabbles so far, but I am planning on taking the inhabitants of the Wentworth Universe on a wild roller coaster ride of drama, angst, and ouch, as soon as my people call their people and we sort out the safety regulations (aka I just need to stop cringing and being embarrassed by my work and should probably ask for a Beta to save me from myself)**  
 **That being said, here is this. ))**

Franky fidgeted at the table. Uncertainty, self doubt, a drunk circus of misfiring thoughts trembling her limbs.

It was strange to be on this side of the visitation. Yet, it also held a note of familiarity as she felt different, true, real. Being with Bridget, being on the outside, she was discovering her self and not just the person she had to become in order to survive.

The door opened and she fought the instinct to bolt.

Turning her feet outward, she hooked them behind the front legs of the chair, as if an anchor against the rough tide of emotion.

The first person went left, joining her husband.

A click, a beep, as the door closes.

A beep, a click, a woman goes right and greets her sister.

Click. Beep.

Beep, click.

Unkempt blonde hair and a kind, but slightly confused face looked around the room until searching eyes pulled Franky into focus and recognition flashed a smile.

Her stride strengthened with confidence, though her hands remained shoved in protective teal pockets.

The large tan envelope became icy fire in Franky's grip. _Oh god, what am I doing? This is stupid. This is a dumb mistake. Who do I think I am? I could lie, I could just say this is for work and that I'm just here for a regular visit. She will believe me. Maybe. No she won't. She will know I'm lying out my ass with my head in the sand._

The prisoner reached her visitor and was flooded with a cacophony of disjointed observations about the person before her.

 _She's softer..._

The copious black eyeliner had been refined, allowing blue eyes to shimmer rather than pierce, allowing her soul to be open and visible rather than obscured and closed off. She didn't need the war paint anymore. She was still fighting, but no longer needed to intimidate her opponents.

 _She looks good. She looks safe._

Pride swelled.

"Franky!" the woman exclaimed quietly.

Franky unhooked her toes, steady enough now to not be swept away. "Liz!"

A warm and all-encompassing embrace caught Liz by surprise, but she returned it in kind.

"You look so good, darling!" Liz said as she took a step back to once again scan her former block-mate.

Awkwardly, humbly, a dark head bowed and managed a half-whispered thanks.

They sat on opposite ends of the table, silently smiling for a moment.

"I'm so glad you came in for a visit, love. It really brightens up my day. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too." Franky's voice dropped off as she contemplated the envelope before her. _Do it now. Do it now or you never will._

The shift in energy wasn't lost on the older woman. "What's the matter? And what's this favour you need to ask of me? It's not going to get me in trouble is it? You're not caught up with anything, are you?" Worry and concern drenched her words.

 _This is dumb. She's going to say no and you're going to feel like an idiot."_

"Come on, out with it!"

Numb fingers pinch the wings of the brass tab together, then lift the flap, unlocking the contents.

"I - uh. I want... I. You. The reason-"

 _Nice, you moron. You work in a law firm and can't ask a simple question for yourself._

A shaky, yet steadying breath.

"Before I give this to you, I want you to know a few things."

Given past disasters, Liz couldn't help feeling leery about the situation, but she allowed Franky to continue, hoping her initial reaction will be proven wrong.

"I was a right pain in your ass. I did horrible and unforgivable things. I was awful to you. And sorry will never be enough to wash those sins away. You were always behind me, though. Telling me when I was about to stuff up, or if I already had. You covered for me, ratted me out and did your best to make sure I didn't get sucked too far under. When I did, you were still there to tell me when I'd done wrong. You fight your own demons and still had time for me. If it weren't for you, I would have never been able to get out of here, and never been able to accept Bridget's help... Or her love. You kept a small bit of my humanity intact, despite the shitty choices I kept making. You never stopped caring about me and my future. Not once. I'm not sure there are sufficient ways to say 'thank you' for what you've been for me. You were my mum in here."

Tears temporarily silenced both women, as they absorbed the meaning and feelings of the words.

Frizzy blonde curls waved as Liz nodded, still unable to extract her voice out of thick emotion.

Franky continued.

 _This is it._

"I was wondering if you would consider being my mum out there too."

 _There. It's out._

Relief relaxed her features. "Officially."

Then that old panic drove anxiety-laden rapid-fire dialogue out of her mouth. "I know I'm a grown ass woman and shouldn't be looking for this and I should have my shit together and-"

A weathered hand covered her own, a remedy for the word vomit.

"Franky?"

A lost little girl stared back with frightened and hopeful curiosity from the chair that the grown woman occupied. "Yeah?"

"I'd be honoured, love"


End file.
